A tattered, blackened, bearded man stood at the head of a long and shallow hole saying a prayer.
It was Henri Marais, although at the time I did not recognise him, so changed was he.

A number of little mounds to the right and left of him told me, however, that the hole was a grave.

As I watched two more men appeared, dragging between them the body of a woman, which evidently they had not strength to carry, as its legs trailed upon the ground.
From the shape of the corpse it seemed to be that of a tall young woman, but the features I could not see, because it was being dragged face downwards.

Also the long hair hanging from the head hid them.

It was dark hair, like Marie's.